Dizzy turned to introduce me, and Nad and I shook hands. “I’m not talking to you,” she said, “You called me a liar.”

“Well, yes. But you did lie.”

“I got those figures from [such-and-such] a hospital.”

“It was rather more the Hand of Hope picture that I was referring to.”

“It was a great picture.”

“Yes, but the point is that it didn’t depict what you said it did. The actual surgeon who did the operation said that the child was anaesthetised and that he pulled the arm out. The baby did not reach out and clutch onto his finger.”

“They are doing that operation more and more. I am going into my local hospital to see it done: I hope to get some pictures.”

“That doesn’t alter the fact that that picture did not, and does not, depict what you said it did.”

And so on and so on; having rehearsed this circular argument for some time, we bloggers wandered out for a cigarette and Mad Nad and I didn’t really talk much after that, or nothing more than desultory pleasantries. There seemed very little point…